Chapter 8 - The Morning After
Daniel Whitmore woke up at 6:00 AM on the leather couch in his study, his head pounding with a vicious hangover. His suit was still damp, smelling of chlorinated fountain water. He groaned, rubbing his bruised jaw, convinced for a split second that the previous night had been nothing more than an alcohol-induced nightmare.
Then his phone began to buzz incessantly.
Dozens of notification banners flashed across the glass screen like warning flares:
*TRANSACTION DECLINED: AMEX CENTURION.*
*CHASE PRIVATE CLIENT: ACCOUNT FROZEN BY REGULATORY HOLD.*
*URGENT: WHITMORE DEVELOPMENT SHARES HALTED ON OTC EXCHANGE.*
"No, no, no!" Daniel roared, scrambling for his phone. He dialed his CFO.
The line picked up immediately. "Daniel? Where the hell are you?"
"Frank, what is going on with the accounts? Why is my black card declining?"
"Are you insane? The SEC and the district attorney's office served us twenty minutes ago! Apex Capital invoked immediate default on the seventy-five-million-dollar line of credit! Our cash reserves are zero! Every construction union has walked off the Harbor Point site!"
"Call a crisis PR team! Tell them it's a personal dispute between me and my wife!"
"Your wife?" Frank laughed bitterly on the other end. "Daniel, you idiot. The local news already leaked the police incident report. Someone leaked the security footage of you dragging Emily across the foyer. The footage is viral on every social media platform on the continent. The board called an emergency vote of no confidence for nine o'clock. If you aren't at headquarters in two hours to defend yourself, you're out."
The line went dead.
Daniel dropped the phone, his breathing shallow and rapid. "Mother!" he screamed, running out into the hallway. "Mother, wake up!"
Margaret stumbled out of her bedroom, wearing a silk robe, her face pale and haggard without makeup. "Daniel, what is that noise outside?"
May you like
Daniel ran to the second-story window and parted the heavy velvet curtains.
Parked along the long, winding driveway of the estate were four marked police cruisers, three news vans with satellite dishes raised, and two flatbed tow trucks already hooking up Daniel’s limited-edition Ferrari and Margaret's Bentley.
